


Revelation

by TuppingLiberty



Series: Raf and Clay short series [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Discussion of Abortion, M/M, Mpreg, Was not discussed before it happened, accidental somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: FFC Day 16: RevelationFeaturing: Raf and Clay having their discussion
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Raf and Clay short series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167224
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2021: Apocalypse No





	Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't help it, had to come back to these guys right away.

Clay's checking on the wild fire damage on the western side of the vineyard when he gets distracted, thinking about a certain omega. 

_ Again. _

Apparently it's noticeable enough that his foreperson Devon has to snap fingers in front of his face to get his attention. "Wake up, McCollum." 

Clay blinks, focusing in again on the repair work they're doing. It's been hard; the entire crop last year tainted by smoke, their buyers complaining that the grapes are worthless. Hundreds of thousands of dollars, up in flames. 

At least their home hadn't burned down. Some out buildings, but no major structure loss. Clay's had to dip into the emergency funds, and by dip he means wipe them out completely, 

He and Devon make a decision about the damage in front of them, and Clay turns away to do the much less pleasant job he forces himself to face every afternoon: dealing with buyers and investors. 

Honestly, can't he just grow grapes in peace? 

He's nearly back to the main house when his cell phone starts ringing and he sighs, anticipating that it's the first of the many long calls he'll be on today. He's surprised when "Raf - Nebraska" shows up on his screen. 

_ I was just thinking about you. _

Probably not the best opener, he thinks as he answers, "Hey, sweet thing, I didn't think I'd be hearing from you." 

There's a short hesitation on the other end of the line, and then the omega's smooth voice filters through. “Hey, um. I was wondering if you were available to meet? We need to talk.” 

"Are you in the bay area?" Already, Clay's calculating the time and expense of a trip to the city, and all, as Devon would say, for a piece of ass. 

Raf's a really  _ nice _ piece of ass, though. Smooth, sarcastic, a city boy through and through, except he'd been able to pull a country twang out of somewhere. Sweet and spicy at the same time, and Clay's had a craving for him ever since. 

"I- yes, I'll be there later this week for work. We could meet for dinner, maybe, on Thursday?” 

His heart actually skips a beat at the thought of being in the same place as the omega again. 

“Thursday sounds great.” 

“Great. I’ll text you the details” 

Clay catches Raf outside the restaurant on Thursday looking down at his phone, the picture of city sophistication in his outfit. He looks...troubled, though, and Clay frowns, hurrying toward him. “Sorry if I’m late.” 

Raf starts, then shoves his phone in his pocket and shakes his head. “I was early. My meeting went well, and the hotel room was driving me crazy, so I came out for a walk.” 

Clay leans in, intending to brush a kiss over Raf’s cheek, and is surprised when the omega stiffens for a half second before he pushes his cheek out. “It’s good to see you.” 

It feels weird, now, here away from Nebraska. Clay’s keenly aware that they’re not each other’s only options anymore, no matter how good a time they had in bed.

“It’s good to see you, too. Shall we go in?”

Clay had been grateful when Raf had texted him the details of the small family Italian restaurant. Very down to earth, tucked out away from more popular tourist destinations. An obviously beloved neighborhood favorite, though Raf and Clay are taken to a table right away. The atmosphere is homey, and Raf seems to relax, which makes Clay happy. 

They exchange light pleasantries - trip nonsense, ‘how was your day’, etc. - while their waitperson sets down a basket of bread. Raf immediately opens it up and tears off a couple of slices of the crusty San Francisco sourdough for himself before doctoring up a plate with balsamic vinegar and olive oil and swirling the bread around. 

The omega hums as he takes his first bite of warm bread, and Clay sits back for a moment, quietly pleased at watching him eat, watching him be satisfied. It’s such a simple thing, and so cave-alpha.  _ Mate eat, Grog pleased. _

Not that Raf is his mate, and the vibes Raf is giving off, he’s wondering if he’s going to be getting the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ talk here shortly. It’s not like Raf needed to even do that, they’d had no illusions of ties after leaving Nebraska, but maybe Raf is polite like that. Maybe Raf’s the type of guy that needs closure. 

These are all the things Clay is speculating as he orders a glass of wine - one made by a winery he supplies, he’s happy to note - and waits for Raf to do the same. Raf surprises him again, asking for water. 

“If I remember correctly, you’re more of a beer drinker.” 

Raf blushes, looking away toward some of the other patrons. “When in Rome. That bar seemed like the kind of place where I may get shot if I asked for a cocktail.” 

“Fair enough.” 

“But tonight I…” Raf hesitates, and Clay realizes he’s tearing the piece of sourdough to bits, the crumbs of it landing in the balsamic and oil mixture.

He even  _ smells _ upset, and Clay frowns. “Sweetheart, did I do something?” 

Raf lets out a strangled little laugh. “Well it takes two to tango, so…” He meets Clay’s eyes, then looks down at the mess of bread he’s made. “God. I just need to… Clay, I’m pregnant.” 

Clay blinks, then nods, slowly, changing his assessment of Raf. He’d never pegged him as a cheater, but, when in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska, and lonely... “Okay. Did...are you worried your alpha is going to find out about me, or something? It was just one night, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.” 

Raf drops the rest of the bread onto the small plate, his mouth hanging open as he processes what Clay has said. Then he shuts his lips, firmly, and glares across the table. “It’s  _ yours, _ Clay.” 

Clay gives a disbelieving snort before he can hold it in, then immediately regrets it when Raf’s face goes all red and splotchy with anger. “I...you have to get my confusion, we used condoms.” 

_ “Not _ the second time,” Raf says through gritted teeth. 

“Yes, we did, we even talked about it-”

_ “Not at the beginning of the second time.”  _

And just like that, Clay flashes back to waking up with Raf’s warm body in his arms and - god, it had been embarrassing, and also hot, and then more embarrassing and then hot again when Raf had been into it, too - he’d woken up already buried inside Raf’s tight, hot hole. 

And then he’d pulled out, rolled a condom on while he’d verified with Raf that he wanted it, and-

And.

“Oh,” Clay manages to choke out, taking the glass of wine the waitstaff left on the table and knocking it back in one swallow. 

When he brings it back down, Raf’s already halfway to the door, and Clay has to scramble after him, throwing a wad of cash down on the table and begging their waitperson to save the table for them. He catches up with Raf a few steps away from the restaurant, and he doesn’t make the mistake of reaching for the omega, but he calls out to him, and Raf miraculously turns and listens. 

His face is red, still, and there are tears brimming in his eyes that he’s furiously trying to wipe away without smudging his gorgeous eye makeup. 

“I’m sorry, Raf. I’m such an idiot, and I’m sorry. I just- can you give me a second chance? I’m still processing, but I promise I won’t be an asshole about it again.” 

Raf crosses his arms protectively around him, sniffing. “That- you were a  _ really big asshole _ Clay.” 

Sensing Raf is softening, Clay tries a smile, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I know. I’d like to sit, and hear about everything, and I’d really like- I’d really like to make sure you have a proper meal, and that you’re not alone and upset in the city.” 

He feels like he’s won a little when Raf uncrosses his arms. “Fine. But we’re getting gelato.” 

Clay’s smile widens, already recognizing Raf’s snark. “Sweetheart, I’ll get you the biggest gelato you think you can manage.” 

He holds out his hand, and Raf hesitates for a second more before taking it and letting himself be led back to the restaurant. Thankfully, the wad of cash did enough to save the table for them, or maybe it’s the world class drama they’d provided through the front windows. They both sit quietly back down at the table, Clay refuses a second glass of wine, and switches his empty plate out for Raf’s mess so that he can eat more bread if he wants. 

“Let’s start over. Raf, I’m glad you asked to get together.” 

Raf just gives him a sarcastic stare, but he sighs and plays along. “I wanted to tell you in person. I’m pregnant. It’s yours, by the way, because why the fuck else would I have invited you to dinner.” Raf’s on the edge of rolling his eyes, and it makes Clay laugh quietly. 

“Touche. That’s...big news. I’d like to know more.” 

Raf hesitates, as if he’s not sure he quite believes Clay’s sincerity, but then he tells Clay all about fainting at work and getting a test done at the doctor’s office. 

Clay reaches across the table, brushing his fingers over Raf’s knuckles. “That must’ve been really scary. I’m sorry I wasn’t around to help.” 

“It’s fine. It’s an unusual situation.” Raf shrugs, waits while their food is set in front of them. “Or maybe not that unusual a situation. At least, my parents always told me I’d end up this way.” 

He’s studiously not meeting Clay’s eyes, but Clay’s not sure if that’s because of what he just said, or because he seems to be eyeing Clay’s pesto gnocchi and frowning at his own lasagna. After a second of this, Clay grins, switching the plates. 

Raf looks up at him with surprise, but when Clay just nods at the gnocchi, he tucks in happily, humming over the basil pesto as Clay starts to work off a bite of steaming lasagna. 

“I’ve been getting heartburn and tomatoes just...all of a sudden didn’t seem like they’d agree with me,” Raf manages around mouthfuls of potato pasta. 

“I’m...sorry for that. Sorry for everything. Do...do you know what you want to do?” 

Raf sighs, poking at a gnocchi. “Several people have talked to me about my choices, but…” 

“But…?” Clay asks when Raf hesitates. 

“I keep being told it’s my choice to make, and believe me, I’m really, really grateful that omegas have choice now, but...I don’t want to have to make the choice by myself.” He looks up, his eyes meeting Clay’s with sincerity. 

“Then...I’m glad you told me.” 

They eat quietly for a moment before Raf looks up again. “I know you’ve only been aware of this for like, a half hour, but...do you have thoughts?” 

Clay gives himself a moment, after sticking his foot so thoroughly in his mouth before. “I want… you to know that you’re not alone in this. That if you decide to carry it, I will be an equal parent. I will do everything I can to...accommodate the distance between us, but I...would not be able to know there’s a kid out there that’s half me without being a full parent to them.” 

“So you’d...want me to keep it?” 

Clay thinks about how this could have gone down; how he could have just never heard from Raf again, never heard about a pregnancy, terminated or not. “I think...maybe you want to keep it.” 

Raf quiets, his hand slipping down and hovering over his stomach. “I think you might be right.”

“Then...I guess we’re having a baby.” 

“...You have no idea how much I want to pound a glass of wine right now.” 

Clay snorts, reaching across the table to take Raf’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I think when I write out the full novel/novella I won't actually make Clay run a vineyard because I know *nothing* about wine, but it'll still be something agricultury. Almond farmer? Ooo, olive farmer!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


End file.
